Mirror
by patheticnemesis
Summary: Ed's not known for being promiscuous. Even so, last night's lover isn't who he expected. Al reflects only what Ed shows him. Elricest.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Property of Arakawa-san.**

_Read A/N at end if interested. Unbeta-ed. _

...

Waking up seemingly with the taste of mud in his mouth is not how Ed usually likes his day starting out. That's to be expected though, he knows, when you've spent the majority of the night slamming back shots of whisky. And maybe smoking a cigarette – or ten. He doesn't remember much around the pain beating a tempo in his head.

Aside from the prominent lack of mouth hygiene, there's not much else he's aware of. There's the warmth of the morning sun on his face, and the cosy feeling of cotton sheets wrapped around his naked body. He doesn't usually sleep in the nude, so he's somewhat surprised, but it's a pleasant feeling. He thinks he might make a repeat performance of it, actually.

The throbbing of his hangover isn't really abating, but at least he's feeling sort of coherent, and not like he's going to throw up the entire contents of his stomach if he stretches a little. So he proceeds, legs elongating with bone deep satisfaction at the kinks being worked out, and arms coming into contact with the soft feel of the other occupant of his bed.

Which – oh – he hadn't been expecting.

This early in the morning and still less than sober, the realisation isn't a startling one. Intriguing, in all honesty. Ed's not known for being promiscuous, though he's had lovers before. Some he wishes he could forget, and others that had a way of, shall we say, imprinting themselves onto his brain permanently. He wonders vaguely which category this particular conquest will fall under. He doesn't think he has the energy required to kick them out if they're the former.

Groggily, he turns to his side, pillowing his head cautiously on his arm before squinting his eyes open. Smooth, pale skin taut over well-defined muscle meets his gaze, then golden hair that trails invitingly up to a chest that swells with a deep breath. Ed follows it's progression up the ribs and onto collarbones adorned with several teeth indents he recognises the shape of ruefully.

The neck tendons stand stark, that pale colour quite attractive mottled with several hickeys. The shape of the jaw however, is worryingly recognisable, and as he finally comes to the rest of the face and the _eyes – _

All drowsiness disappears when Ed's gut clenches in utter fear because there's no mistaking the innocent, _familiar_ stare that's slowly being focussed on his own face. Every emotion he's feeling is reflected back at him, and when they both land on heartbreaking horror; that's when Ed speaks through a mouth that's now stagnant with barely concealed panic, rather than the remnants of a bender.

"What happened?"

His brother looks at him like he can't quite comprehend the words, and then rubs a heavy hand across his eyes. While he doesn't respond, the twist of his mouth is enough. Ed can read even the smallest of expressions on Al's face and isn't that just another blow to his already fragile state of mind over this potential _shit storm_.

Both brothers lie in silence, Ed's mind trying it's hardest to just s_top, please__, _but he's a _genius, _as if that means something, and his thoughts have never simply ceased on command. So far there are no memories rising from the grave, and perhaps that's for the best. If he doesn't have concrete evidence to the fact, then maybe nothing…

"I don't remember." Al's quiet voice floats across the tense space between their bodies, which seem further apart than the actual tangible distance separating them.

And maybe it's cruel and naïve, but that simple statement causes Ed's heart to lift because it means the repercussions of something like _– this _– are just that bit further away than they might have been. There's guilt under there over how easily he wants reassurance against even the thought, buried with his disgust at himself for all the mistakes he's made; he can pretend these don't exist for the sake of his own sanity.

But already the seed has been planted - and that's all there is to it.

Still he smiles, shaky but there, and gets up as if it's the end to the matter. Doesn't say anything other than to shotgun the shower first; leaves quick enough to almost seem body shy, though they both know that's ridiculous for someone as indifferent to boundaries as Edward Elric.

Running on autopilot, he makes his way to the bathroom and turns the taps to start his shower, laying out a towel and ignoring the mirror of the vanity. He's doing his best to direct all thought towards the mundane and not the remembered look of shame and inevitability in Al's eyes; it's all he sees in the end.

Under the running water, his tears that eventually break the dam cease to exist before they have a chance to fall.

...

_Sooo. Trying something a little different this time around (OK so this literally popped into my head, passe and all about three hours ago). Would you guys like a continuation? Or is it alright as a one-shot? I envisage about three parts if it's a YEAH to the previous, and probably something...potentially angsty. Like, not really a happy ending sort of thing. But let me know in a review whatever your thoughts are. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: All rights go to Arakawa-san. _

**I'm continuing this in the end, because I have a direction I like and want to explore further. It's definitely not what I'm used to with this pairing...but I hope you'll stick around for the adventure with me. Probably will need a rating change later on, but I'm not entirely sure yet. **

...

The countryside surrounding Rush Valley is more than beautiful in May; Ed's eyes un-focus as the green of the fields and the blue of the horizon blur together, rushing past the windows of the train he and Al are taking to Rush Valley and Winry. Her wedding is in three weeks and it's as good an excuse as any to take an extended holiday.

The sunlight streaming in makes the dust particles dance like fireflies, tickling his nose and making him sniffle in an attempt to evade a sneeze. Ed bundles his coat closer, feeling his thigh brush Al's. His brother makes a small noise which he ignores, eyes still following the line of hills marking their progress across Amestris.

Winry had sounded so excited on the phone, beyond happy to have her "brothers" coming to visit her for longer than a day, and, he suspected, for getting the opportunity to force them into uncomfortable suits. They wouldn't argue, of course, since this was Winry and both boys would do anything for their oldest friend.

It was still hard to believe she was getting married, and would probably be starting a family soon. Ed's lip curls at the thought of the chaos that Winry's spawn would bring. Thank god her husband was such a mild mannered man; he'd keep his friend's more wild side in check.

He's looking forward to a change in scenery. The last few weeks had been packed with research, work, and more research. He hadn't meant to become so immersed in his side projects but he'd been. Distracted. Or something. His focus was gone and no matter how hard he tried to encourage its return, the bait wasn't being taken.

The clouds look less like cotton candy and more like wisps of hair, he muses as they skid by, remembering the strange fashion Grumman's had been. Sort of like conductors for energy. Static. The quirky old man had finally passed some time ago, much to everyone's sorrow. He'd lived fully, though, and many of his changes to the military during his time as Fuhrer had become integral to Amestris' success.

Al shifts next to him, and Ed presses himself closer to the glass, ears picking out the sound of the train's wheels on the track over the chattering of the family in front of them. There are only two more stops til their own, and he's looking forward to getting to stretch his legs. It doesn't seem to matter how many times he's been on trains, the seats never get any more comfortable or less cramped.

He wonders if Winry will have an apple pie waiting for them, perhaps some coffee to go with it. He knows she must be incredibly busy with her plans and preparations, but she wouldn't pass up on a chance to grill him about his automail maintenance. He grimaces at the thought. At least she'd grown out of swinging those wrenches of hers around all the time. Well, not in the vicinity of his head, anyway.

Letting his cheek rest against the window, Ed allows the vibrations of the glass to pound through his mind, purging. Like catharsis.

xxx

Sitting there, he's about a second away from exploding. Al is getting more and more frustrated with the lack of communication between himself and Ed. It's been going on for weeks now, with every chance to speak being interrupted in some way, either by outside parties or Ed himself.

Al knows why.

He doesn't care. He just wants his brother. But it seems like that's not even a possibility. This person, the one curled in on himself beside him in a too large coat, is just a shell of who he's known all his life. His "brother" isn't this, this emptiness.

Al's heart skips. He knows he only has himself to blame. He shouldn't have reacted the way he did, without thought. With rejection. The only thing that could hurt his brother irreparably and he dolls it out like its candy. He's so fucking clueless.

But it isn't as if he can't see that Ed has a hand in all this either. It's why he needs _words, _proper conversation so he can apologise and try to gather the shards of their cracked relationship, glue it back together. There'll be visible scars, but they'll be whole again.

Ed had looked at him like he'd tainted him, that morning. As if he'd been pure, once. Al has never been pure, but he knows his big brother will always see him as innocent and fragile, incapable of fixing what is broken. He's always been the glue, though. He needs Ed to realise this.

He just doesn't know how.

The train trundles forward with every hour, and every hour Al feels the anger boil just a little more. Anger at himself, and Ed, and every person who ever dared to force rules on a society they were only a tiny, insignificant fraction of.

He's accepted what they did. Doesn't like it, is frightened by it, but accepts it. Ed needs to as well, because they won't be able to move on otherwise. To go back to all that was good and easy. Safe.

His older brother looks so small wrapped in his coat, leaning against the glass and watching the countryside flying by. Al wonders what he's thinking about, changes his mind. He doesn't want to know right now. He's pissed at Ed for so many reasons, and his brother's thoughts are probably all self-deprecating anyway. That would just make the pain sharper.

The train's starting to slow, meaning the next station is their stop. Al stretches his legs out in front of him. The distraction of Winry's wedding will be good for them both, he thinks. He needs time to pass, because he has to find a way to fix this. Fix them. He won't survive otherwise.

As much as Ed fears rejection, Al knows he fears it more. He's just better at hiding it.

...


End file.
